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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29277255">pressure point</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/budd/pseuds/budd'>budd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>time keeps movin' foward [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>...kind of, Alternate Universe - High School, Character Study, David Rose is a Good Person, Introspection, M/M, Meet-Cute, Self-Harm, Sexuality discussion, implied suicidal thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:13:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,692</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29277255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/budd/pseuds/budd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick takes the first step towards healing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/Rachel (mentioned)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>time keeps movin' foward [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>pressure point</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>heed the tags; while there is a hopeful ending, i want you to stay safe above all else. if you're wary about reading, i suggest you don't even though nothing is explicit or graphically described</p><p>yes, i'm projecting again... don't mention it</p><p>loosely based off the song "Social Worker" from The Black Suits, which is also the title's origin</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> It’s normal</em>, Patrick thinks more often than he wants to admit in an attempt to assimilate his thoughts and ground himself in the pool of loneliness that’s slowly pulling him down into a spiral of growing tightness in his chest, the inability to breathe and think as the suffocating gesture wrings him out as if he’s a soaked dish towel after an evening of plate washing...</p><p>Patrick’s mom asks him if he’s okay at least twice every 24 hours, but it’s always the same response: <em> I’m just tired, lots of homework </em> or <em> I ate a late lunch </em>; there’s an excuse for everything these days to the point where Patrick isn’t even sure he knows what’s sincere and what’s another justification to put off facing his fleeting feelings for yet another day anymore, fearful of the response he’ll receive from a therapist or other mental health professional.</p><p>He knows they’re trained to deal with broken people like him, people that are fucked in the head, and <em> that’s </em> what scares him: being told that he isn’t wrong for feeling incomplete when he’s well aware these thoughts aren’t normal. Patrick can <em> try </em> to convince himself that they're “normal” as often as he likes, but it doesn’t erase the fact that it’s not. Sure, maybe it's more common than he imagines, although it’ll never be customary and he’s 100% positive of it.</p><p>When Patrick started self-harming in the eighth grade, it was a distraction from the expectations the world pushes on him each waging second. It allows him to have control over just <em> one </em>thing in his life because between the constant praise from his mother, the girlfriend he’s had for over two years, and the four-year plan he’s had mapped out since before his Freshman year of high school, the world is out of his hands outside of the moments where the cool medal sits between his fingertips. </p><p>Now, however, he doesn’t realize he’s cutting, or at least he isn't as conscious about it as he was when he started. It’s a part of him like the ability to walk or his skills on the ice rink, so he subconsciously gives in to the urge without recognizing the urge’s existence until after the fact. </p><p>To say he’s horrified is an understatement.</p><p>It’s quite ironic, really, how a habit Patrick picked up to <em> gain </em> control has gone as haywire as the reasons why he required the aforementioned control to begin with, but crazier things have happened in the universe, so does he have a right to be surprised?</p><p>According to Patrick himself, no, he doesn’t. </p><p>He tries not to show emotions and sometimes, he doesn’t have any <em> to </em> fake, an idle numbness flooding his senses, creating a bedridden pile of feeble flesh and bones, however, bottling up the bubbling feelings inside of his soul that has existed for seemingly his entire life is becoming too much for Patrick to handle. </p><p>On September 18, he <em> finally </em> gains the courage to see his school’s social worker. Patrick tells himself it's pointless, that he’s walking into Mrs. Terich’s office without reason, but he's well aware he's lying to himself. </p><p><em> It’s not a big deal </em>, he thinks, sitting down in the chair across her desk. Patrick crosses his left leg over his right as his fingers aimlessly tap across the wooden table next to him. </p><p>“How are you, Patrick, is it?” Mrs. Terich asks, typing quickly across the keyboard connected to her Dell monitor. He nods, trailing his eyes across the heavily decorated walls of her office. “What compelled you to see me today, Mr. Brewer?” </p><p>Patrick thinks for a second, pausing to choose his response carefully as to not overshare and concern the woman he's sharing a room with. </p><p>He came because he's crying. No, crying isn't the right word; Patrick’s choking, a suffocating weight pulling his heartstrings out of his chest. </p><p>He came because his anxiety is leaving him dangling on the precipice of life, one foot tentatively hanging off the edge of a cliff just moments away from splattering onto the ridge of mountains beneath him. </p><p>He came because he’s trapped, trapped instead of a bubble of fear and hopelessness for the road ahead of him, a bubble that is on the verge of exploding at any moment now, leaving Patrick exposed and vulnerable.</p><p>Patrick signed up for an appointment with Mrs. Terich in lieu of simply not knowing what the <em> hell </em> is wrong with him, however, all he manages to whimper out is “I’m just here to talk about my grades.” </p><p>“Well,” She begins, putting on her reading glasses to get a better look at the file sprawled out in front of her; Patrick has no recollection of her gathering the collection of papers, though. “It looks like you have a C in AP Statistics, a B- in English III, a C in Physical Education, a D in Sports Management, and a C as well in Business &amp; Marketing.” </p><p><em> Fuck </em>, Patrick mutters underneath his breath. “I thought I had all A’s.” </p><p>Mrs. Terich sighs, taking her glasses off. “Looking at your previous report cards, you've been a consistent honour roll student. Why do you think your grades are slipping?”</p><p>“Heavy workload, I guess?” A quiet washes over the two people creating a lingering, yet awkward, silence. “I’m going to… go pee, that's what I’m going to do.” Without waiting for a reply, Patrick rushes out of her office. He doesn't know where he's running to, all he knows is he needs to go <em> somewhere </em>. </p><p>Patrick stumbles into the nearest restroom to be met with the sight of a man seemingly in his grade combing over his hair in the mirror closest to the door. “Who are you?” The boy asks, eyeing him up and down deviously. </p><p>“I’m—” Patrick clears his throat and rubs his increasingly sweaty palms across the denim cladding his thighs. “Patrick. Patrick Brewer.” </p><p>“I haven't seen you before, I'm David Rose” He states, leaning against the sink to fully face Patrick. “Are you new?” He asks with a certain sincerity that intrigues Patrick and makes him feel like someone <em> cares </em> about him for the first time in forever, as silly as it sounds, like someone is <em> genuinely </em> interested in talking to him and isn’t conversing because they're obligated to. </p><p>Patrick bows his head to cover the shy smile contorting his lips. “No, I’ve lived in Schitt’s Creek all my life. I play sports, though, and you don't strike me as a hockey kind of guy, so that's probably why we haven't seen each other before.”</p><p>Chuckling, David releases his grip on the sink to face Patrick hands-free. “You'd be correct,” He confirms simply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why did you come in here because I can tell it certainly wasn't to pee or… something else?”</p><p><em> Alright, so he's a bit nosy; can't say I’m not into it </em>, Patrick's mind trails off, yet again before his attention is brought back by a wave of David's hand. “Oh, yeah,” He clears his throat. “I met with the social worker, but we only talked for like… three seconds before I bailed on her.” Patrick tips his head back in a sigh. </p><p>David’s face softens as his arms return down to his side. Without thinking, he takes a step closer to Patrick. “I've done that a handful of times. What's up?”</p><p>“Huh?” Patrick’s eyes widen, taken aback by David's question. </p><p>“Like, why'd you go?” He clarifies. Patrick takes in a sharp breath, David setting a hand warily on top of his bicep, gripping the sweater covered skin in a comforting manner. “I hope this is okay.”</p><p>Patrick nods while David grins at the slight smile playing at the corner of his lips. “There's just a lot of expectations people are counting on me to live up to and the pressure is too much. Plus, I might have other plans, anyway, I’m not <em> really </em> sure. Like, I have a girlfriend who I love, but the idea of being with a man has struck me <em> very </em> heavily lately, and trust me when I say me being gay isn't apart of Patrick Brewer’s Life Plan.” They sit in silence for a moment. “I can't believe I told you that, I haven't told anybody that.” </p><p>A thumb rubs small circles into the clothed space between Patrick's shoulder blade, the aforementioned thumb belonging to none other than David, of course. “Talking to a stranger your own age is exactly what you need sometimes and I’m happy to be that stranger for you. Also, being interested in exploring your sexuality isn't something to be ashamed about; I’ve been with practically half the people in this school, boys, girls, you name them, there's a 58% chance I’ve slept with them, so I’m surprised this is the first time you're hearing of me.”</p><p>“Can I ask you a question?” Patrick asks nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot. </p><p>David moves his hand back to Patrick's bicep where it was moments prior. “Of course.”</p><p>“Could we talk outside of a Schitt’s Creek’s High School bathroom?” He laces his fingers together, fiddling with his thumbs behind hands outside of David’s view.</p><p>“I’d love to,” David returns to his spot against the cool ceramic of the sink, a frown tilting his lips downward. “People usually don't stay after I mention the whole hooking up thing.” He has a certain sadness in his eyes like those of a puppy dog sitting at the door waiting for its owner to arrive home.</p><p>This time Patrick is the one stepping closer to David. He instinctively places a hand on his hip. “I could use a friend and you look like you could use one, too.”</p><p>“That wouldn't be an incorrect assumption,” David chuckles, leaning into Patrick’s touch as he joins in his giggling fit. “I’ll see you around.” </p><p>David starts to step away, but Patrick halts his movements. "Before you go," He grabs his Motorola from the back pocket of his Levi's. "Can I get your number?"</p><p>"I'd be more than happy to." David flashes Patrick a quick smile before removing the device from the grip of his fingertips.  </p>
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